AN: I'M Back: ) After seemingly forever stuck offline, I'm back and in business. Those of you still interested will all be happy to note that I've written the first/ second drafts of chapters 36 through 43 on this story. Those also following Mother's, Witches. . . . won't be quite as happy, but I have written two more chapters on that one, as well. It's still being extremely stubborn, but I'm getting there. The next chapter of that story will go up later tonight.

I'm hoping this story hasn't been completely forgotten.

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Chapter Thirty Five

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Draco hadn't even reached the first cross corridor outside the library when he pulled himself up short, Malfoy dignity firmly reasserting itself -- aside from the slight blush that bloomed across his cheeks as he realized how he'd been acting. Firmly putting it out of his mind -- after a quick, covert glance around him, just to make sure no one had seen him act so . . . foolishly -- he resumed his course. This time, however, he moved a bit more slowly, his thoughts whirling. He'd taken the first step to getting what he truly wanted -- even if he had only recently been remotely willing even entertain the thoughts he was currently having.

Just as he reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, it hit him again. I'm going to be a father! he thought, the idea truly making him just a bit woozy. What did he think he was doing anyway?

"Are you just going to stand there wool-gathering, or is there something you want?"

Startled from his shocked meanderings, Draco frowned at the portrait. Cheeky thing! "Of course, I'm not," he retorted sharply, stepping forward to knock on her frame. His raised fist never connected -- well, it did, but it was as the portrait swung open. He'd never put much stock in fate, but he was tempted to consider it as he quickly pulled his next knock so it wouldn't land on the very person he was looking for.

Draco took a startled step back as Ron did the same, letting out a short yelp as he tripped over the threshold, falling back inside the common room.

He couldn't resist. "Graceful," he offered drily, smirking at the redhead, even as his heart pounded in his chest. He had so much to tell the Griff; so much, that he didn't even know where to start.

"Funny," Ron retorted, glaring, clearly not meaning it.

Despite the momentary distraction, Draco's mind quickly returned to his main purpose.

"She agreed!" he blurted, then grinned widely, unable to stop his nervous happiness from showing through.

Ron's glare instantly melted into an ear to ear smile, and jumping to his feet, exclaimed, "wicked! Time to celebrate, then."

Draco could only agree, and hopefully Ron would be agreeable with his idea. The very thought made even his toes tingle. "How about--"

"Malfoy!" Potter shouted, rounding the corner into the hall where Draco and Ron were standing.

"What?" he snarled, entirely unhappy that the second Gryffindor had interrupted. He and Ron had had so little time alone since returning from holidays -- what little they'd had, had been marred by his own convoluted thoughts, then later by his impatience -- that he had been looking forward to spending quality time with the only Gryffindor he truly liked.

Don't you mean loved

Potter stumbled to a halt, clearly taken aback by Draco's belligerent tone, and judging by the quick, suppposedly covert, glance he threw toward his house-mate, by Ron's presence. As the Gryffindor Golden Boy curled in on himself, Draco was fascinated to watch his already short classmate lose several inches as he apparently tried to disappear into himself.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked, immediately stepping forward and putting an altogether too friendly hand on Potter's shoulder.

Draco didn't like that at all, but forced himself to disregard it. Now was really not the time to start displaying jealousy.

Potter continued to look troubled, and now indecisive as he stared at Ron, his teeth worrying his lower lip until Draco thought it might actually bleed. Suddenly, though, he seemed to come to a decision and turned his full attention to Draco.

"It's happening again," he said flatly.

Draco's eyes widened, very glad he hadn't forgotten to research those spells . . . despite all the other concerns distracting him constantly.

"What's happening, Harry?" Ron asked instantly. Confused, and looking very worried on top of that, he looked from Potter to Draco and back again.

"When and where?" Draco asked, over-riding Ron's question. If he was even remotely right, time was of the essence, especially since so much time had passed already. His research had indicated that most of these spells were short term, most lasting no more than a year, some lasting only a matter of months. Of course, this would have been so much easier if Potter would have been willing to go to Dumbledore. Unfortunately, he'd been so worried that the old coot would think he'd gone round the bend that he'd been unwilling to risk it. It really boggled Draco's mind that the Gryffindor Golden Boy would rather trust his help than go to the headmaster. It seemed wrong, somehow.

Swallowing roughly, Potter focused his attention on Draco, steadily meeting his gaze. To Draco's experienced eye, it seemed as though the Griff was trying to ignore Ron's presence entirely . . . not that Draco could blame him, considering the subject matter under discussion. "I-- I was in the library. About ten minutes ago."

Draco nodded firmly. "Right then. To the library," he replied, and without waiting for a response -- or for agreement, for that matter -- strode off. If he started with the assumption that Potter wasn't actually as nutty as a fruitcake -- which surprisingly, he hoped was the case, since Potter being insane would put a very nasty crimp in his life -- there were twelve different possible reasons that the Griff would be hearing the youngest Weasley. None of them were good; though, he had to admit that any one of them would be better than the alternative -- that being that Potter had gone off his nut.

Not bothering to look back to make sure the other two were following -- hearing their foot falls was enough -- Draco silently made his way down several sets of stairs, detouring once, when one staircase stubbornly decided it needed to move when they were exactly half way down. He could hear Ron repeatedly ask Potter what was going on, and listened as Potter consistently told him, 'later'.

He shook his head mentally. While he agreed that it would be . . . kindest not to tell Ron what was happening, he seriously doubted that Ron would let it lie. It would probably be less trouble, overall, to just get it over with. "Bloody hell, Potter! Just tell him, already."

"Tell me what?" Ron demanded, red-faced and visibly angry, his fists clenched at his sides.

Potter sighed, his normally bright green eyes dulling a little. He hesitantly turned to Ron, dropping his gaze to the ground as he did so. Slowly, he stumbled through his story; the sleeplessness as night after night, he'd heard Ginny calling for help; the screams of terror and helplessness he'd heard from her in abandoned corridors. He told of hearing her most often, and most clearly, in the library, and how, after he'd left Hogwarts he'd stopped hearing her at all.

Ron frowned deeply, and opened his mouth several times during Potter's recitation, but he always closed it again without interrupting. He shook his head as Potter trailed off, and it was clear to Draco that Ron thought his best friend had completely lost it. "Malfoy said it's possible that I haven't lost my mind, that Ginny might really be--"

Ron, furious, rounded on Draco, then. "What were you thinking, telling him that!" he demanded. "Giving him false hope. I thou--"

"Because, Ron, I don't believe it's false hope. There are about a dozen possibilities I can come up with off the top of my head. I'm sure I could find more, if I did a little more research."

Ron blinked twice, staring at him stunned, seemingly deflating before his eyes. "What?"

Draco swallowed at the raw, confused, tentative hope he heard in Ron's voice. It reminded him, painfully, of the morass of conflicting feelings he'd suffered upon finding out he would shortly be having a sibling . . . a half-blood sibling, at that. "Don't get your hopes too high, Ron," he said after several tense moments. "I seriously doubt she's actually alive. I do think, however, that her spirit might be trapped somehow."

Ron didn't look good, Draco realized, looking paler than the Slytherin usually did.

"You going to be okay?" Potter asked quietly. "You need to sit down?"

Ron nodded. Draco had to wonder if the questions had really registered, and if they did, which one his nod was in answer to. Or perhaps, it answered both. He quietly took hold of a Gryffindor elbow, while Potter took hold of the other, and together they escorted the shaky 7th year to the nearest seat inside the library.

Ron didn't say a thing until he was safely ensconced in a seat. He looked up, his expression -- scared hope. "She might not be . . . gone? Not completely?" he asked finally, dividing his gaze between him and Potter. They shared a look, then both nodded.

Ron grinned quite suddenly, the crooked delight utterly transforming his face. "Well, then, what are we waiting for. Do whatever it is you came to do. We have to solve this mystery."

Potter chuckled, albeit sadly.

Draco, even, couldn't not respond. He nodded, and moved toward the center of the room. "Do you hear her now?" he asked, casting a glance over his shoulder.

Potter shook his head. "No."

Draco pursed his lips, deep in thought. That crossed off about three possibilities. With those three curses, she would be calling continuously, or virtually so. He carefully considered all the evidence given so far and finally chose the most likely candidate. Raising his wand, he carefully waved the point in a full, measured circle, twice. Upon finishing the tiny circles, he brought the tip down sharply, whispering the required incantation as he did so. The next few seconds passed with heavy expectation. He slowly turned in a circle, surveying the entire main room of the library. Nothing.

"That's one down," he muttered quietly, and with a slow breath proceeded to his second choice.

"Next time," Ron whispered encouragingly.

Potter whispered something to Ron that Draco couldn't quite make out.

Draco nodded his acknowledgement to Ron before beginning the next detection spell. He just hoped that he discovered the right one before they'd spent hours in the bloody library. He had already spent more time in the library this year than in all the preceeding years at Hogwarts. Of course, the wince and the brief dimming of hope in his red-haired friend's expression, had absolutely nothing to do with is desire to get this settled quickly. Add to that, he really didn't think Ron could take hours of getting his hopes raised and then dashed over and over.

"What is going on here!"

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Hermione frowned. So far, she'd checked just about everywhere and nobody she wanted to find could be found. She very nearly stamped her foot in her growing frustration. She needed to talk to someone, dammit! She sighed, her shoulders slumped. Lately, when she really needed to talk, she went to Professor Snape. And no, she could not pinpoint the exact moment she entered an alternate reality where it was reasonable to think of the prickly potions professor as a confidante. He was, however.

Unfortunately, she couldn't very well talk to the man about himself, now could she? Truth be told, she was beyond confused. Oh, she understood that they had somehow moved past the standard student/professor relationship, and that she could state unequivocably that she considered him a friend -- she admitted that to herself some time ago. What had her confused was the guilty feeling she got when the professor stared at her like she'd grown a new head or something -- and that hurt look at the end. That was almost killing her. The thing was, she hadn't even meant the words she'd almost said the way they would have sounded, and the way she knew they'd been taken.

"You're going to do, what?" he asked, utterly gobsmacked -- at least that's what his expression made Hermione think.

She frowned a touch. "I'm giving the baby to Draco."

His lips thinned as he pressed them together, the sneer of old making a somewhat surprising reappearance. "You're giving the care of the baby you claim you want to see raised with love to the boy who has spouted pureblood propaganda and tormented you for the last 6 years?"

Stung by his implied accusation, Hermione straightened defensively. "In case you hadn't noticed, Professor Draco has changed," she sneered back. "Some people are capable of that, you know."

Professor Snape drew himself up to his full intimidating height, first year scowl firmly in place. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, glaring.

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly, resolutely ignoring the fact that she was deriding the professor who could strip her house of every point earned this year. A part of her twinged a little at that. She might not care much about house points any longer, but many in her house did, including some 7th years. "Exactly what I said, Sir."

His eyes narrowed. "Yes," he drawled, his voice deep and menacing, his sneer growing more pronounced as he continued, "and I suppose you're very Gryffindor nature makes you trust that this apparent change is permanent? That the moment he has what he wants, he won't revert to type?"

Anger growing, Hermione stepped closer to her irate professor, not stopping to think why the wizard cared one way or the other. "Do you really think so little of my intelligence?" she asked, not pausing for breath before continuing, not wishing to give the wizard in front of her time to answer her mostly rhetorical question. "The Draco Malfoy who existed before this year, wouldn't have gone to the Burrow for Christmas -- and enjoyed himself there," she ranted. "He wouldn't speak civilly to me, let alone be actively nice, and help me. He wouldn't be so overjoyed at the thought of seeing his sibling before it's even born that he forgot all proper Malfoy dignity that ran out of the library just because he wanted to tell Ron immediately. For that matter, he sure as hell wouldn't be dating Ron." Hermione didn't know what force made Professor Snape remain silent until she finished her unthinking rant, but, even through her anger, she was grateful he had.

"Little Draco Malfoy got excited, how thrilling," he sneered, condescension rank in his voice. "And with all of your vast life long experience, you're such an expert at--" The professor bit off the rest of his words, visibly restraining himself. It was the first time Hermione had ever seen him make the effort once he got rolling. A deep breath, eyes closing for several long, silent moments, Hermione was shocked to see a sad expression flitter across his face before it was swiftly hidden. When he continued, however, his voice was devoid of anger, his earlier confusion, and what had been rapidly growing condescension. "I would have thought, Miss Granger, that if this year had taught you anything at all, it would be not to trust any Malfoy."

She gasped, tears springing to her eyes and his reminder -- unnecessary reminder -- of what had happened at the beginning of this year. It took her several moments before she could get her voice to work. When she did speak, she carefully controlled her voice. If she let loose now, she really would lose every house point they had. "What this year has taught me, Sir, is that I cannot live hating an entire family for the actions of one man."

Eyes narrowing angrily, seething pools of black oil, Professor Snape strode forward until he was very much in her personal space. "So you're just going to forgive and forget, trusting the care of an innocent babe to him?" he questioned, then suddenly let out a huff of clear frustration. "How?" he demanded, perplexed.

"It isn't a question of how, professor," she explained, now quiet. "I had to. For my own sanity, I had to. I don't want to end up--"

Oppressive silence descended, her bitten off words falling on the floor between them.

"Get out!" Professor Snape bit out, his fists and jaw clenched, his face growing red with his efforts at control.

"But--"

"GET . OUT!" he roared and Hermione fled, spinning around toward the door and running, one hand supporting the growing weight of her belly.

Tears streaming down her face, she raced to find the comfort of friends.

Calmer now than she had been -- two hours of searching the castle for any one of her three friends had that effect -- Hermione let out of frustrated huff. She so badly wanted to go back and apologize for her accidental insinuations. That final look of rage had hurt written all over it, and she couldn't stand that she had been the one to put it there. She wasn't sure why she'd said what she had -- despite the fact that it truly had been part of her motivation. When she'd decided to separate the two Malfoy's in her mind, not wanting bitterness to rule her life -- like it had that of her Professor -- had been one of several motivating factors. She shouldn't have told him that, though. At least, not like that, not in anger, not as an insult. After all, brought up differently, it might not have taken as an insult. He was the one, after all, that had brought up the comparison in the first place.

New tears sprang to her eyes as she realized she may have just destroyed any semblance of friendship she had managed to cultivate with Professor Snape. "Damn it all to Hell and back!" she exclaimed suddenly, then winced instantly, quickly making sure no one had heard her outburst. Giving up on her search as a lost cause, Hermione headed to the one place she could be assured -- or nearly so -- of losing herself for awhile.

She didn't dare go back to talk to the professor until they'd both had time to calm down. Of course, she also had to figure out how to get him to listen to her apology slash explanation, without summarily kicking her out of his office. She knew very well that the moment she tried he was going to shut her down . . . hard.

TBC